F*&^%(n' Perfect

For the past week or so I have been in a funk. Not your average, I-have-too-much-to-do-and-not-enough-time-to-do-it chaos, but a REAL FUNK. For days now, the voices in my head have launched an all-out assault on my self-esteem. Simultaneously, I feel fat, exhausted, angry,sad and inept. Granted, there is the ever-present foundation of gratitude for my children and their continued good health, but beyond that lies a vast sea of bitchiness. And quite frankly, I have been drowning in it.

This happens to me occasionally, usually in the abyss between the darkest days of winter and the fleeting promise of the first days of spring. Ironically, my answer to the criticisms has been to sedate myself with carbs, take to my bed and let my obligations pile up around me. Certainly, I get the kids to school, get the homework done, make an occasional appearance at the office, etc. But the bulk of my waking hours is spent berating myself and mining my psyche for enough energy to get a shower. It isn't a pretty picture and believe me. I am certainly intelligent enough to know I need exercise, accomplishment and distraction until the fog clears. But somedays, hell, some weeks, the demons win and you look for relief in box upon box of Girl Scout Cookies.

Perhaps you are wondering why I would choose to blog about this now. Or perhaps you are realizing that just reading this dribble is bringing you down! Wholeheartedly, I confess that sharing my funk is a self-serving act. For the majority of my life when I was not able to perform to my own standards, I would slink away from the world and hide. Very few people were allowed to see behind the curtain with the Powerful and Mighty Wizard of Melanie was not up to par. But nearly forty-six years of fighting demons has taught me that isolation is precisely the fuel they require to continue their rants. And that reaching out....and carrying on....is the best way to fight back.

My sedation of choice was once alcohol...but then I reached an age where being sedated in that way cost me dignity and the entire next day (or two). I am a vivacious, funny, acerbic person when I drink....until I crash and get sad or mean. I am proud to say that my children have never seen me in that light and at this rate, hopefully, they won't ever. Prior to alcohol, throughout my childhood, food was my best friend; and the only comfort that did not require me to seek permission or approval from others. Unfortunately, I have now reached an age where being sedated in that way also costs me a day (or two, or three), trying to undo the damage, physical and psychological. Having been a fat child, I am enslaved by the all powerful number on the scale. Once you have been a Fat Chick (or Chicklet, as the case my be), you are always a Fat Chick....at least in your own mind.

So, I know that my thinking is Funked Up. I have heard the Pink song and seen the Today show segments about how women constantly berate themselves and other women the way men exchange sports scores. At this moment the demons are actually protesting my inability to Believe in Myself More....how ironic that they taunt me for giving them so much power! In case you are frightened for me, fear not, I am medicated. And I know that if I continue to put one foot in front of the other, this too, shall pass. I have a seventy-two hour stretch of few commitments and capability to check things off my "to-do" list. I should be back on track in a hundred different ways by Monday!

But you should also know that if you ride with me you get it all, the Great, the Not-So-Great and the Demon-Possessed....It is called Being Human. In this life all you can really offer others is your willingness to carry a pound of their load when their arms are weak and the path goes uphill. I know I have tremendous support both seen and unseen; I know that I have carried loads when others felt the way I am feeling. So, fear not, go about your lives, and thanks. Demons absolutely abhor being shoved out into the open....I am feeling lighter already.